If you ever lose heart and the earth seems as distant as stars fading into the noise of your busy mind, know this. That a tiny island exists in the blue hands of the ocean. That a tree grows upright into the salted clouds. That two eagles love each other enough to spend their lives greeting the morning sun together. That two eaglets stand in their nest, gazing at the heavens. Looking down to the forever ground. They eat and sleep and flap their wings. And one day in July, one by one, they will jump into the air. They will know the difference between existing and what is beyond. They will hold onto nothing. The hurricane will come, courage catching their pinions on fire, as they mount the wind, climbing ladders into realms of the invisible.

--T.L. Stokes

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

after thunder lightening and rain

After the thunder, lightning and rain
the sky split open. Her skin, under
her gray long coat was the color of ice,
so blue it almost hurts the eyes. Cool
moist blue, the skin of the sky.

As my heart danced with my eyes
someone illuminated the village
in warm yellows. The fir had on wet
earrings. The wisteria curled down to
mounds winter leaves, pile upon pile
of dead voices, neat-looking
in their wild arrangement.

A darting brown gold and orange coat,
small and tight-fitting on a lady bird
by the roots of the crooked tree. Chased
away by her mate, she disappeared
and in her place the boy in feathers
wearing a ruby scarf around his neck.

He lay by the roots and was silent
while I stole his image. He was soft
and full of pride but egoless.
They have flown into the yellow light
and the belly of the sky

and now all the branches are still,
breathing in unison,
even the stones which were silent
stir in their own time.

No comments:

Post a Comment